


The Family We Choose

by Kamikaze_stewardess



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, mentions of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaze_stewardess/pseuds/Kamikaze_stewardess
Summary: After two strangers approach Victor at the Rostelecom cup, he finally gains some answers to questions about his origins and learns more about the family he's chosen.





	The Family We Choose

He'd been interviewed after the Rostelecom cup; a shining silver medal hung around his neck, so the reporter asked how he felt about coming in second to his own protégé. Of course, Victor gushed, as he'd never been more proud of Yuuri; as a coach, being outscored by his student felt like the highest honor. He interrupted when the young journalist asked about his romantic life, stating there'd be no more questions answered; their relationship was not a secret by any means, but had yet to be confirmed. Victor thanked the interviewer, stole a few swigs from his bottle of water and made his way out of the arena.

That was when something caught his eye. He spotted an older couple watching him; he'd almost offered to take a commemorative photo with them, before the discomfort in the room became palpible. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look away from them. A short, plump woman held a handkerchief to her chest, looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost; a man, presumably her husband, towered over her and held a protective hand on her shoulder. Victor shuddered. Something about the look in the man's eye unnerved him; when they said nothing, he politely excused himself and moved past them, wanting desperately to leave the arena and head back to his hotel room.

"Victor," came a small voice, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see the woman's hand outstretched toward him, while her husband tried to lead her out the door.

"Yes?" 

She said nothing for a moment, eyes darting between the skater and her husband, as if silently asking him to find the words she couldn't bring herself to say. That's when he first spoke; a gravelly voice came from his thick barrel chest, laden with a heavy Russian accent.

"You come to breakfast with us, before you leave Moscow," was all he said. It wasn't a question, and Victor was sorely tempted to call out his rudeness and refuse, but the pleading look in the woman's eyes compelled him. 

"Ok," he said simply, before accepting the handwritten note the woman pressed into his palm. In shaky lines, she'd written their phone number and the address to a little place downtown. 

~~~~~~~

Victor couldn't say what compelled him to meet with two complete strangers. He said nothing to Yuuri that evening, for he was sure his ever cautious fiancee would beg him not to go. After he'd showered and dressed, Yuuri was still fast asleep, so he scribbled a note and kissed him on the cheek. They'd be leaving Moscow later that afternoon, as Yuuri always slept in late after competition, so Victor had plenty of time for breakfast and meeting this mystery couple.

Victor's stomach dropped when he found the right address; it was a little diner, only meant for travelers passing through. He couldn't see the two strangers through the window; part of him hoped they'd never show up, as he stepped inside and took off his coat and scarf. 

"Table for three, please," he said to the hostess. His hand rubbed over the short hair on the back of his neck; it was a nervous habit he'd developed long ago.

As he sat down, his phone chimed; Victor drew a shaking breath, nervous it might be the couple cancelling their plans, before he saw Yuuri's contact on the screen. He remembered then he'd never given the two strangers his number, for which he was thankful.

'Where did you go? ~Y. Katsuki'

'I'm just grabbing breakfast and meeting some friends. See you soon. Xoxo ~V'

Just as his thumb pressed the "send" button, he heard the screech of chair legs sliding across the tile floor. Victor glanced up to meet the icy stare of the same man he'd met yesterday; even as he pulled out the chair for his wife and took his own seat, his familiar blue eyes never left Victor's. 

Victor shook himself out of his daze and offered his hand in greeting; the man gripped it firm, with no friendliness in the handshake. The woman swatted at her husband's arm and smiled at Victor in silent apology; he immediately radiated to her, as she seemed to be the more approachable of the two. She took his slender hand into both of her own, shaking enthusiastically and pressing his palm to her cheek.

"Sorry, no English," said the husband.

"It's alright," Victor replied in smooth Russian. Why they'd presume he spoke only English, he wasn't sure. But relief washed over the woman's face as the communication barriers came down.

"My name is Anastasia," said the smiling woman. "And this is my husband, Alexei." The man's gruff exterior never faltered. "Nikiforov," said Alexei.

Victor felt a hot flood of nervousness wash over him; his hands trembled from where they rested across his lap. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; at the precise opportune moment, a waitress came by to take their drink orders. He asked for coffee and a water, then looked back to the couple across the table. Alexei had his arm wrapped around Anastasia's shoulders; it was the first display of tenderness Victor had seen from the man.

"You're my parents," he stated without question. His blur eyes burned with the fury he'd felt toward his birth parents his entire life. 

"No, дорогой," said Anastasia. Victor's fiery anger fizzled out, drenched by the woman's words. He was perplexed now; if not his parents, who could they be? 

"I'm your aunt by marriage. Alexei is your mother's brother." 

The waitress came by with their drinks in hand; Victor feared he might be sick if he tried to eat, so he ordered breakfast to go for Yuuri, declining any cream or sugar for his coffee. Once she'd left, he turned back to his alleged aunt and uncle.

Victor couldn't recall much of his early childhood; he remembered clinging to a woman's apron, while she spoke on the phone with someone, whom he presumed to have been his father. He remembered hiding behind a couch once, covering his ears to block out the sound of screaming. Finally, he remembered bouncing between foster homes, until he was sixteen and Yakov offered him a place to stay. 

With tears in her eyes, Anastasia passed a piece of paper across the table; it was a newspaper clipping, which featured the smiling face of a young woman and the headline, "mother killed by drunk husband." Victor felt the sting of his own tears behind his eyes, but he dared not cry in front of these new people. He could see so much of himself in his mother, from her silvery blonde hair, blue eyes and even her defined cupids bow. Now he knew where his signature heart shaped smile came from. Fortunately, he recognized very little from his father's mugshot, also featured in the paper. He was serving a life sentence in a prison just outside of Moscow. 

"Why didn't you come for me?" Asked Victor, his voice barely audible over the chatter of the busy diner.

"We....should have," said Anastasia. "It was hard, looking at you and seeing Elena." 

Victor glanced over to his uncle; Alexei's eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the newspaper clipping.

"We didn't know where you were, until we saw you on television."

Victor's eyes found a particularly interesting tile on the floor; after a long, pregnant pause, Anastasia took his hand in her own. 

"Are you well, Victor?" 

Her concern seemed genuine enough; Victor softened, realizing then they were only reaching out to the last piece of his mother they had left.

So, in spite of the general mistrust he felt toward his relatives, he smiled and said "Da. I'm very well, thank you."

"Are you married?" Asked Alexei.

Victor bit the inside of his cheek.

"No, I'm not married." 

"Do you have children?" Asked Anastasia, her excitement a contrast to Alexei's suspicious glare.

Victor chuckled. "No, I don't have children, yet. But I'd like to, one day!" 

"And this.....man. The gold medalist at the Rostelecom cup..." Alexei trailed off, having addressed the elephant in the room. 

Victor became visibly uncomfortable. Not knowing what else to do, he put on the professional face he wore in front of every reporter who asked about his fiancee.

"Ah yes, Katsuki Yuuri. He gave a winning performance yesterday. The medal was well deserved."

His aunt and uncle looked to each other, perplexed; Alexei's irritation was palpable, while Anastasia whispered and soothed him, before turning back to Victor.

"Yes, well.....what we mean is, are you seeing each other?" 

Victor smirked. "We've seen each other often, as we ARE competitive figure skaters. What you mean to ask is, 'are we lovers?' And the answer is yes, we are."

The couple grew silent; a red flush spread across Alexei's face, from the tips of his ears, all the way down his neck. Anastasia was stroking his back, remimding him not to make a scene, but her husband put up his hand to silence her. He was clearly having none of it, as his rage became as uncontrollable as a speeding train, flying off the tracks. Victor flinched when he spoke.

"You are a disgrace. My sister did not raise a fairy, dancing on the ice in those provocative costumes and getting fucked by other men." Alexei growled. Victor wanted to badly to say "she didn't raise me at all," but he bit his lip, as not to further anger the man. He believed in two types of angry people: implosive and explosive. Alexei was an explosive man and Victor had no desire to see the height of his fury.

"Alexei, you will calm down," hissed Anastasia. "Victor, dear-"

"Why did you ask me here today?" Asked Victor, his tone clipped. 

Anastasia sputtered, while Alexei breathed harshly through his nose. Victor thought he looked like a raging bull, but didn't say so, for fear of provoking his anger even further.

"We.....well, to be honest with you, we want you to leave Yuuri."

"....Excuse me?"

"We'd like you to leave your lover behind and come stay with us in Moscow," reiterated Anastasia. "You have more family, you know. Another uncle and some cousins." 

"You will not use the Nikiforov name and behave in such a way," Alexei snarled. "You will never be a part of this family, so long as you're with that faggot."

"Alexei!"

"I think we're done here." Victor stood abruptly. He dug a handful of bills out of his pocket, enough to pay for their meals and thensome. Just then, the waitress came over with Yuuri's to go order, so he pressed the wad of money into her hand and turned to walk away. His aunt and uncle didn't follow; from the corner of his eye, he saw them sitting there, looking stunned. As he walked through the door and headed back to his hotel room, he heard them apologizing to the waitress on his behalf, as if he'd been the one to cause the scene.

He made a mental note to look into changing his last name to Katsuki.

~~~~~~~

When Victor arrived back to his hotel room, Yuuri was pacing across the floor, having a phone conversation in Japanese. Victor realized then, it was time for the weekly phone call Yuuri made to his parents, so he didn't dare to interrupt him. He crept into the room as quietly as possible, but winced when the door shut with a loud "click." 

Yuuri's head jerked over to look at him. "Victor!!!" He cried, then abruptly said 'goodbye' to the person on the other line. "Where have you been?! I've been so worried!"

"Out to breakfast, like I told you," said Victor, a bit perplexed.

"Well I know that, but it's noon and you weren't answering my texts, so- Victor? Are you alright? What's happened?!"

It was then that Victor noticed the flood of tears streaming down his face; he'd learned so much about his family and himself, all in one morning and he'd tried so hard to hide his emotions from his awful relatives. Then, in the safety of his hotel room, the dam broke and everything overflowed. Victor was a sobbing mess; Yuuri gathered him up in his arms and brought him over to the bed, where he cried into the other man's chest for what felt like hours.

Finally, once he'd exhausted himself, he told Yuuri everything. The story of his mother's death, his family's outrage over their relationship and all of the horrible things his uncle had said. Yuuri listened, uninterrupting, while running his fingers through Victor's soft gray locks. He waited until Victor was entirely finished before he spoke.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"Thank you," said Victor, for a lack of anything else to say.

"I'm your family now," said Yuuri. "Well, me, Yakov, my parents and sister...even Yurio. We all love you."

Victor smiled into his chest. "I know."


End file.
